You Do Count
by dontworrylemon
Summary: Set three years after the fall Molly has continued living her same old boring life but when Sherlock returns to her in the middle of the night suddenly things threaten to change but is for better or for worse?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! This is my first ever fanfic so hopefully you all enjoy it! **

**Sorry if there are any mistakes in this, I edit all my work myself and I wrote this in the middle of the night!**

**Enjoy and review!**

**-Lemon**

* * *

Life had never been easy for Molly Hooper, so she didn't expect this year to be any different than the rest. Of course like every other person in the world she had hopes and dreams that the new year would be different from the rest, she even went as far as making a list for herself that she posted on her fridge hoping to invoke some motivation.

_Join that spin class that you've been wanting to join for years but haven't because you're scared to do things in front of people but don't be! This is your year!_

_Lose that last 5 pounds of holiday weight!_

_Learn a new skill, maybe even learn to play the piano, or pick up painting?_

_Organize your life, house and office._

_Volunteer more at the children's hospital or at the homeless shelter_

_Make Sherlock love me._

Okay so the last one never made it to the fridge but it still make her secret list that she kept in her journal. She had known the man for three years yet he never failed to amaze her and thrill her. This year had been different compared to the rest however, this was the year she killed and saved the great Sherlock Holmes. Of course she couldn't take all the credit to herself, it was Sherlock who came up with the great plan for his "suicide", it was him who mapped everything out and created the concoction that would keep his heart rate slow enough to be considered dead, but still enough to keep him alive.

Yes it had been the Great Detective who had pulled off the world's greatest vanishing act, but without Molly's help it wouldn't have been possible. That late night in the lab when he came to her replayed in her head every night right before she fell asleep, his words both haunted her and excited her. _You do count, you've always counted. _Oh how long she had waited to hear those words come out of his mouth, how long she had yearned for him to come to her, not for her lab or her bodies, but for her. She had saved him and in return he saved her, he had been the first person to show her that she counted and that she was important, for the first time in her 31 years of life she felt special and she wasn't willing to let them feeling go away that easy.

* * *

Molly woke unusually early that morning to the sound of scratching at her door. She rubbed her eyes clear of sleep and slowly got out of her bed, Toby had a habit of getting himself stuck in her bathroom and needed help to get out. She cursed silently and made a mental note to buy a door stopper to make sure Toby couldn't lock himself in anymore. Still half asleep Molly walked over to the bathroom door and slowly turned the knob and opened the door. She was greeted to darkness but when she went to reach for the light something inside her stopped her. A creeping feeling crawled up her spine and worked its way through her body making her shiver despite the warmth of her flat.

"Hello Molly,"

The deep baritone voice sent a shock throughout her body making her jump back and smack into the wall behind her. A sharp pain hit Molly's foot and as she looked down she saw broken glass, and even worse blood. Despite the pain Molly stepped forward and flicked on the hall light to get a better look at the man behind the voice.

His black curls were longer than they were the last time she had seen him and his cheekbones looked even more prominent. Instead of the finely tailored suits he always seemed to wear he was dressed in a leather motorcycle jacket covered in mud and caked on dirt and an old ripped pair of jeans that looked like they wouldn't survive a washing. But he was still beautiful and angelic as always despite all the bruises and cuts on his face, hands and neck. He was still her Sherlock.

"Sherlock," she whispered so quietly she wasn't sure she had said it till she saw his smile.

"Yes Molly, it's me," he replied equally quietly. "I'm back."

"For good this time?" she asked the question she was terrified to ask.

"Yes," he answered, "this time for good."

Molly hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she felt the painful tightness in her lungs begging for air. She put her hand down from the switch on the wall and absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but before her hand had reached her hair she felt Sherlock's cold hard hand stop her and instead pull her in close in a warm embrace.

"I missed you," she said before she could stop herself.

Sherlock chucked and pulled her closer to him. "I missed you too, Molly."

So they stood there for what seemed like forever, her arms placed gently on his chest with her hands bunched up in his shirt, she breathed the scent of him in making him fill her body with the sweet heavenly aroma that was him. He didn't look like her old Sherlock with this new outfit of us but his sweet musky scent still lingered filling Molly with bittersweet memories and broken promises. They would have stayed like that forever if it wasn't for the sharp pain that throbbed at Molly's foot. Regretfully she pulled away and looked down at her bleeding foot.

"Oh Molly, here let me help you."

Before she could protest Sherlock had swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms and walked them both towards the kitchen where he knew she kept all her medical supplies. Molly began to protest but knew it was pointless so she remained silent and let the man of her dreams carry her into her kitchen and place her gently onto the dining room chair.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," Sherlock said turned away from Molly to search through her shelves in hunt of the first aid kit she had.

"That's okay," Molly replied. "I was just a little startled that's all; I thought you were Toby that's all. I guess I never expected you to show up here-"

Molly abruptly stopped speaking when she looked down at her bare legs; she had forgotten she had slept in her father's oversized Oxford shirt, and nothing else. Blushing, Molly tried to push down the fabric to cover her thighs only to have the fabric pull tight and bounce up to her stomach. With all the blood rushing to her cheeks Molly was glad that Sherlock hadn't yet found the first aid kit and that he hadn't seen her pathetic attempt at covering herself.

"Molly don't be embarrassed, I've seen your legs before so there's no need to hide them I'm not looking." Sherlock said without turning around.

How did he know? Who was she kidding, he was Sherlock, he always knew. With a sign Molly gave up and left the shirt where it was, pooling just below her waist but low enough to cover up her yellow boy shorts she always wore to bed.

After a minute Sherlock found the kit and quickly turned around and focused his attention to Molly's foot. She must have knocked something off the wall when she backed up into it and stepped on it causing the cut. Sherlock grabbed the alcohol wipes and very carefully wiped away the blood from her foot, the pain caused Molly to jerk away but he kept a steady hold on her so she couldn't get away from him.

"It'll disinfect the cut, it won't kill you." Sherlock said to Molly's reaction.

"I know," she said quietly, "I am a doctor after all."

He worked in silent as Molly watched him patch up her foot. His soft delicate fingers made her skin burn and she could only imagine them running through her hair, running down her delicate throat, and running down her-

"Molly?"

His voice suddenly brought her back to reality and with a jerk she sat up right, with the blood rushing to her cheeks once again and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Sorry, just tired."

"Your foot's all fine now, no stitches needed or anything like that just be careful with it for awhile, okay?"

Molly nodded her head and grabbed Sherlock's outstretched hand which he used to help her get out of her chair. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and led the now limping Molly towards the bedroom. When they entered the room he pulled back the duvet covers of her bed and gently pushed her down into the pillows and when she was down he retrieved the covers only to place them over her body tucking her in slightly in her sides.

Sleep clouded Molly's brain and before she could protest or fight it she was allowing Sherlock to tuck her in bed like a small child. She smiled to herself and shut her eyes allowing sleep to fully evoke her body. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of something soft and warm touch her forehead and the whisper _sleep now, my Molly._ And then…nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

That night Molly dreamt of Sherlock; more importantly, her Sherlock. Not the mean arrogant stone faced one that everyone else knew, but the kind and gentle one that she knew and loved. In her sleep she dreamt that they went for coffee at Speedy's then after they took a walk which ended up with them getting lost, but neither one of them cared; they had each other. She dreamt that Sherlock saw her shivering and took off his heavy coat and ever so gently laid it over her shoulders to keep her warm. She dreamt that they were telling old stories or telling jokes or something of the sort, but whatever they were saying they kept both laughing and smiling. She dreamt that Sherlock didn't have to go back, that he would decide he was better off with his pathologist and stay with her for the rest of their lives. In her dreams he kissed her first, not the other way in which she had always imagined. No Sherlock Holmes kissed her first. In her dream she floated above London, above Europe and above the world into an entirely new atmosphere, an atmosphere that allowed only her and Sherlock to live in, an atmosphere fuelled by their love. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

When Molly woke up she felt a pain in her chest as she looked around the room and noticed that she did not actually do those things and even worse, she probably never will. Reality hit her like a slap in the face and brought tears to her eyes at the thought of living one more day, one more second, in her miserable loveless and Sherlockless life. Molly silently curled up into a little ball, hugging her knees to her chest and cried for all the memories that hadn't yet happened, and probably never would be. She cried for herself, she cried for John and Mrs. Hudson, for Greg, and even worse; she cried for Sherlock.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed like that for but when she lifted her head she was surprised to see the sun high in the sky announcing a brand new day. Great, she thought to herself, another stupid pointless day.

Very slowly Molly threw back the covers and got out of bed. She swung both legs over the bed and did her morning stretch, flexing out her hands she shut her eyes and then began to flex her toes when a sharp pain stopped her. Looking down she eyes her bandaged foot carefully wondering to herself, what happened?

The sound of broken glass sent the little hairs on her neck flying and that deep hollow feeling in her stomach worsen. Molly's heart rate increased as she slowly stood up and walked very carefully to her bedroom door. Suddenly she heard footsteps, not light ones like Toby would make but big heavy ones; someone was in her flat.

Very carefully Molly got up and headed to the closed door making sure to grab the first blunt object she could find, an old beaten down copy of a hardcover dictionary her parents had gotten her when she was accepted into Uni. Slowly and silently she opened her bedroom door and sprang out of her room and into the hallway, very quietly she made her way to the kitchen where the sound seemed to be coming from. As she neared the kitchen she could hear the sounds of footsteps and sizzling like something was cooking, she smelt the air; it smelt like bacon- burnt bacon.

Taking her weapon of choice over her head she jumped into the kitchen and threw the book across the room towards the dark figure hiding in the corner. She heard him gasp painfully and just when she was about to pick up a frying pan, Sherlock bloody Holmes turned around.

"What the hell, Molly!" he yelled fetching the dictionary from the floor. "I just got back and you're already trying to kill me?"

Molly froze, memories of last night flooded into her head. It wasn't a dream, he was there standing in front of her wearing those old ratty pair of jeans and that stupid jacket. But that didn't matter, he was here, he was really really here.

"Oh, Sherlock I'm sorry I forgot!" Molly said quickly stepping forward towards him. "I forgot! Oh here let me help you!"

Sherlock stuck up his hand making her freeze in place and silently handed her the book. "Be careful with that Molly, it's practically an antique." As Sherlock handed Molly the dictionary their fingers touched ever so slightly, Molly could feel herself beginning to turn red but turned around before he could see her blushing.

"Oh," she said taking in the view of the kitchen, "you made breakfast."

Sherlock had made her breakfast, well had tried to make her breakfast. There was bacon burning in the frying pan on the burner, the kettle had fallen over with water still dripping out the top, tea bags were lying around the counter top and in the corner of it all was her cat Toby eating the stick of butter that clearly Sherlock had forgotten about.

"Yes!" Sherlock said proud of himself, "I made us breakfast!"

"You didn't have to do that you know I could have made something! After all you are the guest in my house."

"Nonsense, Molly, it took me awhile but I think I got the bacon just-" Sherlock stopped talking as he took in the sight of his breakfast. "Well it was worth a shot, I guess."

Molly giggled and took the frying pan off the burner before the bacon burnt and tipped the kettle back upright. She turned her back to Sherlock and began cleaning the mess that he had made. While Molly did that Sherlock turned his attention to the rather large stack of newspapers gathered by Molly's TV, upon further inspection he saw that they weren't only local and national newspapers but global and international ones. He picked up one with the cover of the American president on it waving to a crowd and scanned the front page; Asian newspaper; the writing was either Japanese or- no definitely Japanese, Sherlock brought the paper to his mouth and licked the corner and felt the mental click of the deduction begin to take place.

Japanese national paper from two weeks ago tastes quite bitter and quite like fish, obviously bought at the fish market which is also the only place in London that you can buy this paper in its original language. Molly can't read or speak Japanese so she would have no need of the paper, but yet here it was in her room. She was looking for something, a location, a symbol…a name. Sherlock quickly rifled through the stack of papers looking for something in common, he saw papers from Egypt, Canada, Russia, Ireland and even some small country in Africa that he had never heard of. Suddenly everything clicked in his head, she was looking for him.

He had always known Molly had a silly school girl like crush on him but he never expected this from her, he never thought that she would be tracking him. He could picture her now walking throughout all of London to buy these papers hoping that one might mention his name or even show his picture. He was careful while he was gone to avoid such attention but he knew Molly cared and he knew she would look just in case. He smiled to himself and placed the papers back where they were, Molly- his pathologist would never cease to amaze him.

"Breakfast is ready!" Molly sung out.

They both sat at her small corner table and ate quietly, munching on toast, sipping on tea, all while avoiding the questions they had been desperately been wanting to ask. While Molly ate Sherlock studied her movements very carefully, she kept looking over towards the closet and kept fidgeting with her hands and she even dropped her fork twice. He always knew Molly wasn't her best around her but this was something else, this was something new.

"Molly," he said finally breaking the silence, "do you have somewhere to be?"

"Um, no why would you think that?" Molly answered, her voice wavered. She was hiding something.

"You keep looking at the closet as if you are hiding something in there and your hands keep shaking which clearly shows me that you are hiding something. I want to know what it is so tell me what it is."

"No Sherlock it's nothing it's just I've had a lot to process, I'm just trying to get my head wrapped around things that's all."

Sherlock quickly stood up and dashed over to the closet. "Then you won't mind if I look in here do you?"

Molly jumped out of her seat to stop him but before she could do that he already had the door open and was looking inside. "Sh-Sherlock don't look in there this is my house!" Molly said quickly, but it was too late; he had already seen what she was hiding.

He pulled the dress out slowly and carefully as if it were something fragile that would break with his touch. The peach coloured strapless dress swayed back and forth as Sherlock spun it around on its hanger, he took in every detail about and cataloged it in case he never needed this information, why he would need it he couldn't answer that right now he just got the feeling that he would. Before Sherlock could examine it further Molly had grabbed it from his hands and held it close to her body, hugging it around her chest.

"I said it's nothing, Sherlock!" Molly spat out. "Just leave it alone for once!"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but his though was interrupted by Molly's fridge, well not specifically her fridge but rather the small ivory paper with cursive writing on it. He moved in closed to get a good look at it and when it came into view, he wished he hadn't seen it at all.

"Mr. John H. Waston and Ms. Mary S. Morstan request the pleasure of your company and invite you to celebrate the joys of marriage by-" Sherlock stopped reading, suddenly his mouth went dry and the room began to spin.

Molly sensing something was wrong were behind him and put a comforting hand on his back and leaned in close. "Sherlock, are you okay? I thought you knew they've been engaged for a year."

John, Bachelor John Watson was getting married. How? How had he not known, he had gotten Mycroft to give him updates on him from time to time to see how he was doing but never in his reports did he mention a Mary Morstan or even an engagement. John had moved on, it was the only logical thing to do after all, but he didn't expect this; this was something entirely different. They had talked about marriage (obviously not between them despite what the media had always suggested) when John went out to the pub and had had one too many with Mike. John had told his friend that he could never see himself settling down, not because he didn't want to but he didn't feel the need to; he was happy with his life being a single carefree man. Oh how the times had changed.

"When is the wedding?" Sherlock asked quietly swallowing the lump in his throat.

Molly took her hand off of Sherlock's back and snatched the invitation off of the fridge. Without saying anything Molly handed him the piece of cardstock and stepped back a few paces and set the dress on her couch.

"In six hours."

* * *

**I just want to take a minute and thank everyone who has read this,followed,favourited or liked this story so far! If all goes according to plan I will have a rather long story which is good because those are the best kind! I don't have an uploading schedule yet but I do have the next 2 chapters written up, I'll just upload them when I feel you guys need more Sherlock/Molly love!**

**Thanks you guys**

**-Lemon 3**


	3. Chapter 3

It had been almost two hours since Sherlock had found the invitation and in that time he hadn't moved once. He sat on one of Molly's sitting room chairs with his hands brought to his chin like he was praying and he sat with his back perfectly straight. At first Molly had thought that he had fallen asleep and was taking a nap but when she moved closer towards him she could hear him murmurings words to himself quietly. Molly rolled her eyes remembering his _mind palace _or whatever he called it that he visited when he needed to think.

She left Sherlock in the living room, picked up the dress from beside him and moved onto the bathroom. Hanging the dress on the hook, Molly started the shower and after a moment stepped in letting the hot water and steam take over her surroundings. She stood there for awhile letting the water drops roll down her body, hoping that the hot water would somehow take away the feeling of pain and guilty that she had felt since this morning. She gave up hope after a minute and started washing her hair with her usual strawberry scented shampoo and began lathering it into her scalp.

She was running through the motions of her usual showers, wash hair, condition it, shave her legs…however this time it was different. Yes she was doing the exact same thing she always did but he mind wasn't in it, neither was her heart. She thought of herself as a robot in that moment, just going through the motions never stopping to think about what she was doing or wondering why she was.

Molly turned off the shower as she felt the hot water slowly turn a much colder temperature and began to towel off when she heard the sounds of Sherlock's voice. She wrapped herself in the first towel she found and silently opened the door a peak to listen to what the detective was saying.

"How could you not tell me?" Sherlock voiced angrily. "All this time you never once mentioned anything about John and Mary! How could you-"

From the one sided conversation Molly could only guess that he was on the phone with someone, possibly the mysterious Mycroft, his brother who despite all her efforts she never got to thank for keeping him alive all those years. One day, she told herself, one day she would give that man the proper thanks he needs and then maybe even a hug, or a scone; maybe a scone.

The sound of Molly's ringtone suddenly snapped her back to attention. Wrapping the towel tighter around her body Molly crossed the room to where her mobile was charging and without looking at the caller ID answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"MOLLY I'M GETTING MARRIED IN FOUR HOURS WHERE ARE YOU?"

Molly giggled. "Mary! You don't need me for another two hours! I'm getting dressed I told you I'd be there and I will!"

Molly could hear Mary sign on the other end of the line. "Molls, you are my maid of honor, you should be here instead of John's sister! My god if she keeps going on about some girl she met at the pub I'm going to drive her head through the wall, come please! We're still at the salon; you can get your hair done here!"

Biting her lip Molly took Mary's offer into consideration. She should be with Mary especially since she was her best friend and her maid of honor but the thought of Sherlock sitting her alone tugged on her heart strings.

"Mary, I want to come but I have to settle something before I come, okay?" Molly hated lying but she couldn't tell Mary the truth! Not that she would believe her but still, she didn't deserve this. "I'll be there as soon as I can! I can do my own hair don't worry!"

"This isn't a work thing is it? You promised me you had it off!"

"No don't worry it's not that! It's just I have-"

"MOLLY HOOPER DO YOU HAVE A BOY AT YOUR FLAT?"

Molly could just picture Mary sitting there with rollers in her hair sitting in the salon with the rest of her bridal party jumping up and down at the thought of Molly with a boy at her flat. Molly smacked her hand to her forehead and shook her head. "Mary no it's not like that, it's hard to explain!"

She could hear her friend giggle on the other end of the line. Great, she thought, now Mary thinks I have some bloke in my flat. "Alright Molly, whatever you say! Be here in an hour though 'kay?"

Molly shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed, Mary can think whatever she wants it's her day after all. "Alright I'll be there in an hour okay! See you then!"

Molly hung up the phone and tossed it back on the dresser then sunk down into her mattress. What was she going to do with Sherlock? She couldn't leave him here in her flat all alone, she had left him alone here before but this time was different. How could she leave him here all alone with nothing but his depression to keep him company?

A knock at her door interrupted her thought, getting off her bed she once again tightened the towel around her and answered the door only to be greeted by Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock I just got out of the shower, I'm not dressed."

"You've been out for twenty two minutes, more than enough time to get dressed yet you still aren't." Sherlock's painfully flat voice said. Molly could feel Sherlock's eyes lingering on her brightly coloured towel, feeling self conscious she wrapped her arms around her chest as if to protect herself against his words. "Also more than enough time for you to listen in on my conversation with my brother," Molly blushed slightly but that didn't stop Sherlock from speaking, "I don't care what you heard I'm sure you will hear more of it in the future. I came here to ask you a question though."

"What is it?" she asked quietly. In her heart she knew the question and in her head she already had the answer, she just needed to hear it.

"Take me to the wedding," he replied his voice void of all emotion.

Molly sighed and shook her head. "No Sherlock you know I can't do that, especially to John. Not today, when they get back from their honeymoon you can see him but not today."

Sherlock stepped closer to her and placed a hand gently over hers, Molly could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks but there was nothing to do to stop her from blushing, after all there was only a towel separating her from him.

"Please Molly," he whispered.

He was begging her; the man who never begged in his life was begging Molly to let him come. A lump formed in her throat and no matter how hard she tried to swallow it, it simply would not cease to exist. She felt something tug inside her, yanking at her heart strings as she stared into those beautiful blue orbs, he was beautiful and he was desperate.

Molly shook her head and broke their embrace. "No Sherlock," she said quietly, "you know I can't do that, not to him especially not today, he deserves more than that. Now please leave me to get dressed I have a wedding to attend."

Molly shut the door but it was too late, Sherlock had already seen the tears fall down her face.

Thirty minutes later Molly emerged from her room wearing her peach dress that she had tried so desperately to hide from Sherlock. After she shut the door on him she allowed herself ten minutes to cry silently and after that she forced herself to stop and began working on her hair. At first she had straightened it but after she was done decided it was too flat so she curled it and made a simple bun on the side of her head just behind her left ear. She had put on minimal makeup; the most drastic feature was the bright red lipstick that Mary had bought her for Christmas last year. The peach coloured dress that she wore had an empire waistline and a low neckline accentuating her collarbone that stuck out, the one body part of hers that she would never hate. The dress hugged her tightly in her ribs and showed off her girlish figure that all of her others clothes couldn't seem to do. She twirled twice in front of her full length mirror and smiled, she looked gorgeous and no one would put a damper on that, not even Sherlock Holmes.

She picked up her matching clutch, put on her heels and headed out her bedroom door. She knew Sherlock was probably still sitting in her living room still sulking but Molly had better things to worry about, like getting to Mary's side before she killed her. She walked in her living room half expecting to see Sherlock there but was genuinely surprised when she did not see him there among her things. She felt the strings attached to her heart begin to pull but took a deep breath and walked out of her flat making sure to lock the door on her way and once out of the building flagged a cab giving the driver directions of the church ten minutes away.

When she arrived she was greeted by what must have been hundreds of lilies and white roses that lined the aisle that her friend would shortly be walking down. She had heard Mary say that she didn't need to worry about money when planning the wedding as the money Sherlock's will had left John would certainly cover it but Molly could only imagine how much of a dent this wedding would be putting in the account. It only took Molly five minutes to find the dressing rooms where Mary was certainly getting ready.

"Molly! Thank god you're here!" Before Molly could react she was pulled into tight embrace by Mary. "Oh Molls you look absolutely stunning! Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't look better than the bride?"

Molly laughed and took in the sight of the blushing bride. She didn't have her ivory dress on yet but she was wearing her embroidered white silk dressing gown John had gotten her as an engagement present with the initials _M.W_ over her left breast. Mary's golden locks were still up in their curlers and her makeup was only half done but she still looked beautiful.

"You look amazing Mary, you really do." Molly replied hugging her friend once again.

Mary sat back down in the makeup chair and began taking out her rollers slowly, carefully inspecting her strands to check and see if they were perfectly curled. "You just missed Harry, she went to go check up on John and see how he's doing. Oh and Mrs. Hudson was here just awhile ago, she dropped off some biscuits! God love her soul, she's such a wonderful woman!"

Molly took a seat on the sofa across the room and watched her best friend get ready. Mary continued to talk and during that time more people entered the room, some worked on Mary, some just stood in the corner but mostly they just went on and on about the wedding. Molly smiled every time Mary looked at her and politely answered questions or joined in group conversations but just like her shower, her heart wasn't there, her heart was trapped within the walls of her flat with a man who didn't even know it existed solely for him and with even beat it beat his name.

* * *

**Okay so I know this chapter is kind of uneventful but I needed it to go along with the next chapter I'm writing so be patient!**

**Thank you for all your love and support, I honestly never thought I would have this many people like and read my work so thank you very much! **

**For a gift for all you guys out there I'm possibly going to upload the next chapter tonight depending on how well this chapter does!**

**Thanks so much and keep reading!**

**-Lemon**


	4. Chapter 4

Molly sat at the long table at the end of the room and watched as her two best friends as they danced their first dance as husband and wife. John held his new wife close as he whispered the words of And I Love Her by the Beatles (their song of choice for their first dance) and swayed her back and forth, the smile on Mary's face was so genuine and Molly couldn't help but smile at the sight of them.

The two years that had passed after the fall were rough for everyone, but the damage seemed to affect John the most. He was a hard person to break, after all he was a soldier but every man has his breaking point, and for John it was Sherlock. For months John never left the flat, barely ate and rarely spoke to anyone outside of Mrs. Hudson and Molly. One day Molly came into 221B and almost cried as she spotted John's old cane hooked around one of the arm chairs, she left then without saying anything and practically ran home all while tears streaked her face. There were so many times that she just wanted to go to John and tell him that it was alright and that Sherlock wasn't dead, but she couldn't do that not after everything Sherlock had done to protect him. So instead when the temptation arose she just hugged John and held him tightly as they both sat and cried onto each other's shoulders over the fallen memories of the man that they both had known and loved.

Mary coming into John's life was truly a gift from god, if you believe in that sort of thing. Molly had known the school teacher for a couple of months but they had never gone out and that night Mary decided it was time to stop moping and get on with life. While at the pub they had run into John and as they say, the rest is history. They dated for nine months before they moved in together and then lasted another two before John got down on one knee and proposed.

Looking at them now brought tears to her eyes, they were so happy and in love it brought great joy to her but at the same time it brought sadness. She tried to imagine her wedding but couldn't picture it. She tried to see herself in the big poofy ball gown walking down the aisle with a bouquet of yellow and red gerbera flowers clutched tightly in her hands. She tried to imagine the diamond ring on her finger or the vows she would speak but she couldn't picture it at all. It was if someone had gone over her thoughts with white out and voided out that part of her thoughts.

"Molly dear, are you alright?"

Molly turned her head to see who had spoken to her. While she was watching Mary and John Mrs. Hudson had sat beside her, Molly looked down and noticed that the older woman's hand was placed gently over hers.

"Yes, sorry I was just watching them," Molly answered, "they look so happy."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and squeezed her hand lightly. "They are! I'm so glad he finally found someone, I thought he would never get over Sherlock's death the poor soul."

Molly nodded her head in agreement. "He would like to be here to see this, Sherlock that is. I think he would have been very proud of John."

"He would have been! He probably would have insisted he brought that horrid skull with him," Mrs. Hudson shuddered, "oh he brought that everywhere with him before John! Oh Sherlock," she sighed.

Molly turned in her seat and faced Mrs. Hudson. "I miss him so much sometimes," she confessed, "sometimes I think I'm driving myself insane thinking about him all the time, he wouldn't have liked that very much he didn't like me all that much actually. Not that that matters now."

Molly turned away before she could see Mrs. Hudson's reaction, but if she were to see it she would have seen the tears pool in the corners of the old woman's eyes and a frown appear on her face. "Molly love you must never think that! No boy, not even Sherlock Holmes is worth your tears, you are perfect and one day even if it seems like it will never happen it will happen!" Mrs. Hudson pointed out towards where John and Mary were still dancing. "Everyone deserves that, especially you dear."

Words escaped Molly all she could do was smile and nod her head. Mrs. Hudson gave her hand a quick squeeze again and left heading off towards her table to go sit down with her friends that John had invited. Molly wiped at the tears gathering in her eyes and downed the rest of her pink champagne before joining the rest of the crowd as they clapped at the end of the new couples dance.

Molly gave Mary a huge smile and wave when she looked over her and for the first time that night she felt happy and content, and no one could take that feeling from her.

* * *

It was two AM and the party had not yet stopped. Molly and Mary had both long ago abandoned their shoes and were currently dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Most of the guests were gone but the ones that had stayed were all either on the dance floor joining them in a dance of lounging out at the bar laughing over a couple of drinks.

Molly spun in a tight twirl two times making the room spin, she laughed loudly and hugged Mary tightly. Mary joined her in laughing and the two of them continued to dance circles around John.

"Are you drunk, Molly Hooper?" Mary asked loudly.

Molly shook her head laughing. "No! I'm just really happy that's all!"

"You've had a few drinks!" Mary answered back. "Are you sure you're not drunk?"

Molly raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She had had a few drinks, well maybe seven, or was it eight? She had lost track a long time ago but she didn't care she was having fun and it had been a long time since she had had this much fun, she didn't want this night to end.

She turned on her heel and started off towards the bar to get another drink when she felt hands wrapping around her waist. She turned around in surprise and almost screamed when she saw those piercing blue eyes, surely that couldn't be Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" she whispered.

Sherlock placed a finger on her lips to silence her and pulled her into an embrace and began swaying back and forth. "Shh Molly be quiet please!" he whispered quietly in her ear. "I don't want John to know I'm here, I just had to see him."

It took Molly a minute to figure out that Sherlock had his hands wrapped around her waist for a reason, he was dancing with her. She placed her hands on his chest and followed his movements as she let him gently rock them back and forth an unfamiliar song that played in the background.

She looked up and caught his eyes. He didn't look like himself, he had on a ginger coloured wig and had glued a very good looking ginger beard onto his face to disguise his features but not even the best disguise could hide his beautiful blue eyes and beautiful perfect cheekbones. Despite this costume he was still beautiful and made her heart flutter. She sighed and placed her cheek against his chest listening to his heart beat, she didn't know if it was the alcohol or her imagination but she could hear it beat with her name, beat for her existence, and beat for her.

"Alright folks it's that time of night where we shut her down and play the last song! Grab your lovers and hold them close as we play the final song of the evening!" The DJ announced.

Suddenly the room became silent and a fear that someone had recognized Sherlock filled her body but when she looked around the room she saw that no one was looking at them, they were too busy with their partners. Molly smiled and placed her head back on Sherlock's chest and hummed along with the familiar song that played in the background.

_You're in my arms, and all the world is calm_

_The music playing on, for only two_

_So close together_

Molly slowly lifted her head and looked up into Sherlock's eyes; the fact that he was already staring down at hers was a surprise to her. She thought that he was watching John but no, he was watching her.

_And when I'm with you so close, to feeling alive_

_As life goes by, romantic dreams may die_

_So I bid my goodbye, and never knew_

As he stared down at his pathologist he got a weird sinking feeling in his stomach and felt his heart flutter.

_So close was waiting, waiting her with you_

_And now forever, I know_

_All I ever wanted was to hold you, so close_

Sherlock tried to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat but despite his best effort it stayed. His eyes never left Molly's, he had tried to look away but she kept him locked onto her. God she was beautiful, how had he never noticed this before?

_So close to reaching that famous happy end_

_And almost believing this one's not pretend_

_And now you're beside me_

He was always observant, he always studied everybody so closely but he had always overlooked Molly, why hadn't he seen her like this earlier? Why had he never seen this side of her, she was like perfection wrapped up in this tiny human body. He wrapped his hands around her tighter forcing her closer to her, her pupils dilated in response and he swear he could feel her pulse quicken.

_And look how far we've come_

_So far we are, so close_

_Oh how could I face the faceless days_

He was so close all Molly could see and smell was him, it was driving her mad. She was so close she only needed to go up on her tip toes and their mouths would be level, she was so close.

_If I should lose you now, we're so close_

_To reaching that famous happy end_

_And almost believing this one's not pretend_

Very slowly she extended her toes allowing her the height advantage she needed, Sherlock responded as well and painfully slow leaned in close to his pathologist.

_And let's go on dreaming for we all know _

_We are so close_

His hands moved from her waist and now wrapped around her slim throat, his thumb brushed her cheek ever so slightly. They were only inches from each other now, he could almost taste her in his mouth.

_So close_

He leaned in closer closing the gap between their mouths; he felt the soft outline of her lower lip gently on his own. Their eyes both closed automatically and Sherlock felt Molly's grip on his chest increase. They were so close, their lips were almost touching when-

"Molly!"

_And still so far…_

They broke apart quickly at the sound of Mary's voice. Sherlock quickly freed Molly of his grip and gave her one last painful look before turning on his heels and walking out of the banquet hall leaving Molly's head spinning.

Mary ran to her friend and grabbed her arm. "Molly, who was that?" Mary asked excitedly, "And why did he just run away like that? Was that the bloke in your flat earlier today?"

Molly silently nodded her head and placed her fingers on her lips where not a moment ago Sherlock's were gently placed. Her heart ached and caused her so much pain she thought she would fall over and collapse in front of everyone. She had waited so long and now he was gone, they were so close.

A single tear slipped out of Molly's eyes and pooled in the corner of her mouth. She shut her eyes tightly allowing even more tears to fall but she didn't care, let them fall she wanted them to fall. Her body still felt hot where Sherlock's hands had once been and now thanks to Mary, probably never would be again.

How long she had waited for him to look at her that way, how long she had waited for his touch, for that kiss. She swallowed the lump in her throat and let out a sigh before turning back to face Mary. As she looked into her friends' eyes she felt her whole body collapse inside itself and suddenly before Mary could say anything Molly had turned on her heels and just like Sherlock exited the building. She ran as quickly as her feet would let her in no particular direction, she felt the blood rushing to her head telling her to stop.

The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was look in his eyes and the warmth of his lips as they ever so slightly covered hers in that stolen kiss. She hit the ground hard but couldn't move; she felt her whole existence slowly drain away from her…and then-nothing.

* * *

**Just want to say thank you again to everyone who read and reviewed my story so far! This wouldn't be possible without your love!**

**I hate to leave you with this cliffhanger but I just needed to get this story out there even though I just published my third chapter, you ask and you shall receive!**

**Hoping to have some more Sherlock/Molly up for you soon!**

**-Lemon**

**PS Sherlock and its characters do not belong to me but to the BBC**

**The song included in this chapter is So Close by Jon Mclaughhlin from the Enchanted soundtrack.**

**...I wish they were mine but sadly they are not**


	5. Chapter 5

When Molly awoke she woke with a shiver run through her body and a deep pain running through her chest. Memories of the wedding night flooded Molly's brain making the pain in her chest tighten and constrict. Sherlock, Sherlock was there, he was in disguise and they danced, yes they had danced and they had kissed. No, she painfully remembered, they had almost kissed, and it almost broke her in half.

Molly brought her fingers to her lips and gently stroked where only moments ago to her, Sherlock's lips had been. Tears silently flowed through her eyes and streamed down her face pooling in the corner of her mouth. She couldn't help wonder _what if?_ What if she had let Sherlock come to the wedding with her, what if he would have danced with her the whole night and no one else never once daring to look away from her, what if Mary never interrupted them, what if Sherlock kissed her? What if Sherlock loved her instead of the alternative?

Molly shivered again; she reached for the blankets and pulled them up wrapping herself in them. The warmth should bring comfort to her but if anything it did the exact opposite, the usual soft blanket felt itchy and thin. Molly looked down and let out a gasp.

Instead of seeing the floral bed arrangement that were on her bed she had she looked down and saw a thin white blanket with the words ST. BARTS stamped on the side. Quickly Molly snapped her head to the left and eyed the heart rate monitor tracking her heart beat, how had she not heard that before? She took in her surroundings quickly cataloguing everything she saw; pale white walls, heart rate monitor, plastic chair in the corner of the room, flowers and greeting cards on the dresser. She was in a hospital.

Suddenly the room began to spin and Molly was left gasping for air. The pain in her chest came back but this time it felt different, it felt like someone was inside her ribs dragging their nail across the bone making her shiver and squirm in pain. More tears fell from her eyes but these were not tears of sadness, these were tears of pain and there was nothing she could do to stop them. The pain in her chest increased as Molly struggled for breath. Beside her the heart rate monitor's beeps became louder and more frequent telling her that there was something wrong.

"Molly!"

The sound of her name snapped her back to reality and very slowly she turned her head and faced the man who spoke her name. Sherlock stood in the door gripping the frame so tightly that his knuckles had gone ghostly white, the look of fear was written over her face making Molly feel scared for the first time in a long, long time. He stood there for another second before he crossed the room in one swift movement and before she could blink he was beside her sitting on the bed. She would have smiled and blushed if it weren't for the excruciating pain brewing in her chest.

"Molly I need you to focus on me, can you do that?" Sherlock asked. Molly nodded her head quickly. "I'm going to put your breathing tube back in your nose, it fell out in your sleep. Don't move okay, just stay still and it will be over soon I promise."

Molly held onto his words and nodded her head all while watching as Sherlock grabbed the breathing tubes from the side of the bed and gently inserted them back into Molly's nose. The rush of cold oxygen ran down her throat and slowly Molly felt the fire slowly die down and then finally extinguish itself.

"Thank you," she whispered after finally being able to find her voice.

"Are you alright?"

Molly nodded her head and slowly leaned back in the bed. "Yes, thank you Sherlock."

Sherlock watched her with careful eyes for a second, studying her chest as it moved up and down, up and down. He sighed a sigh of relief when Molly's breathing finally evened out, her attack was over.

"What happened to me?"

"You passed out," he answered, his voice flat and emotionless. "Do you remember the wedding?"

Molly nodded her head but didn't say anything, she was afraid if she spoke it would be too painful for her.

"Well you left the reception and passed out in the park, a police officer found you that morning. You're in the hospital, you've been here for three days being treated for pneumonia."

The word pneumonia made Molly open her eyes and stare at Sherlock, surely he couldn't be serious. As if reading her thoughts Sherlock nodded his head. "Yes I know what I said Molly, pneumonia, they x-rayed your chest and took blood. They have you on antibiotics and they've been monitoring you for awhile now but they still need you to stay for another few days just to be sure. When you came you were also suffering from hypothermia, Molly you could have died."

Molly let the words sink into her before she nodded her head finally accepting her fate. She opened her mouth to ask Sherlock a question when a bright patch of red on Sherlock's cheek and lip suddenly caught her attention.

"Are you hurt?" she asked him quietly.

"Don't be ridiculous Molly, why would I be hurt?"

"You've got red on you."

Sherlock brought his hand to his face and stroked his cut gently. "Yeah well turns out John's punch has gotten significantly better than last time he punched me in the face, plus this time he was wearing a ring so-"

"Wait! Did you say John punched you?" Molly asked. "That means that you saw him."

"Wow Molly I wonder how you came to that conclusion," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "yes Molly I saw John, and Mary. Our reunion was…something I won't be forgetting for awhile, but at least he knows the truth now."

Molly giggled despite the pain it brought her. "At least you don't have to hide out in my flat anymore."

Sherlock nodded his head. Looking down at her brought him pain though he didn't quite know why. Part of him was angry at himself for not looking after her and the other part of him felt like this was his entire fault.

While Molly slept earlier and he sat by her bedside he had gone to his mind palace and ran through all the scenarios in his head and he came to the conclusion that he was the reason for Molly's current condition. If only he had stayed with her, he was that confident in his disguise that he could have easily fooled John, but not Molly, never Molly. She would be able to spot him from a million miles away, she was special like that and he was thankful he had her in his life.

He smiled at heartfelt smile at Molly and felt something warm inside him brew as she returned the gesture. He had the strong urge to lie down beside her in her bed to track her uneven breaths, for science of course. He had always been interested in the bacterial infection she was harvesting in her lungs and he could only imagine the joys he would have at studying it closely under the microscope in his flat. But as he continued to stare at her he realized that no, it wasn't just the science he wanted to get closer to, it was he; he wanted to get close to Molly.

"You should rest now, Molly."

Molly nodded her head and eased back into the pillows and after a moment closed her eyes. Sherlock suddenly had the strong desire to lean in and silently run his fingers through her brown hair that he could only imagine would smell like strawberries, he wanted to stroke her delicate cheek, he wanted to hold her and tell her everything was okay and that soon the pain and hurt would be only but a distant memory. He wanted to hold her, to have her close, hell even to have her. He wanted Molly.

Or maybe it was the drugs talking.

* * *

**Sorry that this chapter was really short but it's an important chapter for future chapters!**

**Thanks again to everyone who has read this and supported me! **

**Hope to have another chapter for you soon!**

**-Lemon**


	6. Chapter 6

Molly sat in front of her computer reading the daily paper while Toby sat in her lap purring gently as she stroked her companions head. It had been two weeks since she was released from the hospital and already she was feeling better. The doctor had given her at least another week off from work but with all that free time on her hands Molly had no idea what to do. She hated taking time off work, mostly because she had nothing else in her life going on besides catching up with her reading and the episodes of Doctor Who she had missed while at work. She had always been the one to work holidays and weekends while everyone else was out carrying on with their lives or spending time with their families. It was times like these where Molly was painfully reminded that she had no one.

A knock on her door caused Molly to jump up a little in her seat, Toby clearly annoyed with this sudden movement jumped off his owners lap and disappeared into Molly's bedroom. Molly shut the laptop and crossed the room to open the door. To her surprise the eldest Holmes stood in her doorway, in his hands he held a black briefcase and in the other an umbrella.

"Oh, hello! Um, would you like to…would you like to come in?" Molly asked in her quiet mousy voice. Molly silently cursed her awkwardness and stepped aside allowing Mycroft to step inside.

"Thank you, Miss Hooper." Mycroft replied stepping into the small flat.

Molly gestured towards the sofa hoping Mycroft would sit but instead he seemed to look around and surveyed the surroundings. She noticed that he took everything in like his youngest brother did and she couldn't help but stop and stare. Just like Sherlock he had the look of a deduction on his face and as his eyes scanned her flat she could picture him putting the pieces of the puzzle that were her life together just like Sherlock had been able to do.

"Charming," Was all he had to say.

After a moment's hesitation Mycroft sat in the lounger across from Molly and placed the briefcase in his lap.

"Now Miss Hooper-"

"Molly," she interrupted. "Please call me Molly."

"Alright, I'm sure you know why I'm here."

"Is it Sherlock?" Molly asked, her voice laced with concern and worry. "Is he alright? Is something wrong?"

"I assure you, Miss Hooper everything is perfectly fine with Sherlock."

Molly breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god. Sorry, would you like some tea? I seem to have forgotten my manners."

Mycroft smiled and shook his head. "No thank you, Miss Hooper."

"Please Mycroft, call me Molly. It is my name after all." Molly began to giggle but stopped abruptly remembering how much it had annoyed Sherlock when she laughed like that. She could only assume that it annoyed the eldest brother as well.

Mycroft gave Molly a reassuring smile. "It's quite alright Molly. Yes you are right, I am here because of Sherlock but also because of you, I need to ask you a few questions."

"What kind of questions?" she asked quietly.

Mycroft turned his attention from Molly and focused it onto the briefcase on his lap; he opened it and produced a thin file from inside. On the side in elegant writing was her name, Margaret Cora Hooper.

"Don't be surprised Molly, we have files on all of Sherlock's associates, you are certainly not the first and you certainly won't be the last." Mycroft said answering the question that lingered in Molly's mind.

"Do you always keep track of Sherlock like that?" she asked. "You just keep tabs on him and all his friends, isn't that a bit creepy?"

"I work for the government, if you want to see creepy I'll give you a tour around the office sometime." Molly gave Mycroft an awkward smile and let him continue. "Anyways, I need to ask you about that night."

"What night?"

"The night Sherlock left you for dead."

The words left Mycroft's lips but seemed to linger in the air before Molly had registered them. His voice was calm, cool and collected almost like he had practiced saying the words in front of a mirror to make sure his voice was void of emotion. Sitting up higher and straighter she folded her hands in her lap and met Mycroft's eyes. "What time are you referring to?"

"The latest incident, the one that lead to your pneumonia." He answered.

"And what about it?"

"I need to know what happened, I need to know why he left you and-" Mycroft leaned in closer and cleared his throat. "I need to know you're okay."

Molly's eyes darted away from the eldest Holmes quickly. It was one thing for Sherlock to tell her that he cared for her but another for Mycroft. In the very few meetings they had had together he seemed to give the impression that he wasn't interested in her or her wellbeing, he was too busy being focused on his brother.

"Why do you care anyways?" she asked, her tone a bit harsher than she meant.

"Things have been…complicated since my brother has reappeared."

"How so?"

Mycroft placed the file back into his briefcase and took a deep breath before continuing. "Miss Hooper, Sherlock's war isn't over yet; it isn't even close to being finished. And of course like any war there will always be enemies, spies, loyal followers and causalities. You have shown yourself to be a heroine when this all started but lately I am getting the impression that you will be a causality, after everything that has happened since his death I need to make sure I can protect and keep away the right people."

Molly considered his words for a second. What he was saying couldn't be true, Sherlock was back! That meant that his fight with Moriarty was over with and now he can finally move on with his life! Why was Mycroft so sure this wasn't the case?

"I don't understand," Molly says avoiding Mycroft's eyes again, "Sherlock's war is finished! Everything can go back to normal-"

"Molly," his voice is honey sweet and makes Molly's eyes dart back to his, "please believe me when I saw this, nothing is never truly over. There are still dangers to be fought, there are still monsters lurking in the shadows waiting for their opportunity to attack. I need to make sure the right people are protected, and you Molly Hooper are one of them."

Molly felt her breath hitch and the tightness in her chest returned. How could she be so foolish to think that everything would be over like that? Sherlock had made many enemies but she thought that without Moriarty they would leave him alone she thought that they would let him move on with life. She had been so foolish.

"Sherlock never left me for dead," Molly spoke slowly paying extra attention to her voice making sure it didn't fail her. "I just happened to drink too much and passed out outside. It happens to people all the time!"

Mycroft raised his right eyebrow. "Miss Hooper is you believe me a fool then by all means please continue with your story."

"I don't know what you want me to say! Sure I tried to follow Sherlock after he left but I must have tripped and hit my head or something, really it's not Sherlock's fault."

Mycroft allowed a pregnant pause to pass before he spoke again. "Molly six months after Sherlock faked his death Sebastian Moran broke into your flat in the middle of the night and almost killed you, unfortunately he escaped. You could have died, you're lucky you didn't. Most people who go against Moran seem to have their mortality revoked, very few live to tell the tale."

"Yeah well I survived, Mycroft so-"

"You survived because my people saved you, if it were not for my _creepy_ surveillance you wouldn't be sitting here in front of me, perhaps you could have gone with the same headstone as my dear old brother. I'll give you the number for future reference."

Molly could feel anger bubble within her small body, she could feel the blood rush to her face, she wanted nothing more than to scream and shout at Mycroft. She wanted to kick him out of her flat and tell him to stay the hell away from her- but she couldn't. Every word that Mycroft spoke was true, without him she would be dead. And despite the hate and anger she felt towards him she owed him a debt.

"You're right, you saved my life and for that I owe you a debt."

"No Miss Hooper, you saved my brother and were there when no one else was so for that I owe you a debt. Anything you require please feel free to contact me."

Mycroft produced a small white business card with the initials M.H on it in italic font with a mobile number below and placed it gently on the ottoman separating the two. Mycroft gave Molly another quick smile before standing up and walking out of her flat without a word.

Molly waited until the black sedan rounded the corner before grabbing one of the cushions on her couch and flung it out into the hallway. She kept throwing things until she heard the sound of broken glass. It matched the sound of her broken heart.

* * *

**Hey everyone! Sorry I took so long to write this chapter I've been really busy lately! Hopefully I'll have more stuff for you guys soon!**

**-Lemon**


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock leaned back in his favourite chair and sipped his tea. He had officially moved back into 221B a couple of weeks ago but since coming out to the world that no, he was not dead he was too busy with press releases and being interviewed by Scotland Yard and reporters to actually enjoy being alive again. It was all Mycroft's idea of course, you couldn't just come back from the dead and assume everyone was up to par with it like he was.

Despite the whole situation and, how had Mycroft phrased it; the _tedious legwork_ that Sherlock had endured these past couple weeks everyone, including the press, was finally convinced that Sherlock wasn't a fraud and that Moriarty was the criminal mastermind behind it all. His work was done, Sherlock could finally relax.

Sherlock stretched out his long limbs and shut his eyes. He had a headache that was threatening to become a migraine but he couldn't bother himself to take anything, it slowed down his mind. He allowed himself to wander into his mind palace for the first time in a long time, he frowned and took a mental note to delete most of the information on Moriarty and Moran, only to make sure he kept the important stuff just in case something like this ever happened again.

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he had lost himself in time but when he opened his eyes he noticed the sun had gone down and his tea was now ice cold. Sherlock got up from his chair and walked the short distance to the kitchen noticing that Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to leave out some biscuits and sweets before she left for her sisters. Really, Sherlock didn't know why she did, she knew he wasn't going to eat them. But it made him smile.

Coming back to the world hadn't been that very difficult. At first John thought that he was having another nightmare but with Mary's help he assured him that no the man in front of him was Sherlock and no he was not dead. And okay, maybe he did deserve that punch and split lip but certainly not that one in the stomach! Mrs. Hudson acted like instead of dying he had just been on holiday for three years and was just coming back, he was secretly thankful he didn't have to go into details with the old woman. Lestrade seemed in denial for a total of fifteen minutes before realizing that with Sherlock alive he could get his old position back and now he'll finally have someone to help him solve the latest batch of unsolved homicides. Lestrade hugged his favourite consulting detective holding Sherlock in a deathly tight embrace and ran quickly to tell the rest of the team. Surprisingly Donovan and much to Sherlock's dismay, Anderson both appeared and shook hands before calling him a freak and going back to work. Things were finally back to normal.

Sherlock grabbed the nearest glass in the cupboard and began to pour himself a glass of water but his hands were too shaky and the water spilled out everywhere soaking papers and getting in the cracks of the counter. He glanced at the clock on the wall, it was almost midnight. It had been sixteen hours, thirteen minutes and twenty eight, twenty nine seconds since his last hit. His withdrawal was getting worse and the symptoms were coming faster and quicker now.

He could feel his head reeling and pounding, he felt the sweat gather just above his brow, his hands shook so much he couldn't grip anything, the room began to pick up speed and spin. He shut his eyes and counted to fifty in Latin then backwards in Spanish. He went over the velocity of the tube, he started making random calculations, charted the stars and it's constellations in his head- anything to take his mind off of it. But nothing he did seemed to help, anger bubbled up within him and before he knew what he was doing Sherlock grabbed a nearby beaker and threw it against the wall.

He stormed out of the kitchen and nearly ran to his bedroom. When he reached his destination he pulled open his drawers from his dresser almost taking down the whole thing, he didn't care about the old thing, he only cared about the precious wooden box deep within. He pulled it out and stepped back away and into the light. Holding his breath he opened the box and admired the beautiful vile of clear heaven. The syringe next to it was wrapped delicately in a fine golden cloth he had found while he was in India; it is also where he bought the drugs. He hadn't used them till he got back, at first he didn't want to use him but when it was just him alone at night with the memories of what had happened to him- he couldn't think about it.

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and wrapped the band around his arm tightly, he made a few tight fists to make the veins thick with blood. He filled the syringe and held the needle up to the light, admiring it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world he had ever seen. He hesitated only for a second before injecting himself.

He felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he felt his pulse quicken, he felt his pupils dilate so much it was almost painful. Oh how he missed that feeling, oh how he lusted for that euphoria! Sherlock placed the box back in his original spot and went back out into the sitting room to retrieve his phone. He swayed gently before picking it up and when he did he noticed he had one missed alert; a text from Molly. Molly, sweet and gentle Molly. His pathologist- his Molly.

He could smell her perfume and her shampoo in his nose, he could feel her soft hands pressing gently against his chest. He could feel her soft warm lips pressing against his- no wait. He couldn't because they had never been there before. Why had he never kissed her before? Such beautiful and perfect lips were wasted if they were not being put to use up against his own.

He could feel her fingernails drag along his bare back making small red lines as she trailed her way down his small frame. He imagined the way her breath would hitch when he flicked his tongue over that delicate spot right behind her ear. He could almost feel her against his skin and taste her in his mouth, and she felt good.

He needed Molly right then at this very second, or however long it would take to get to her flat. Picking up his keys and mobile Sherlock almost sprinted out of the flat and out into the cold freezing night. He had forgotten his jacket but barely felt the cold, he turned his feet to the west and began running down the streets.

He needed a doctor. And he knew one who wouldn't mind a house call.


	8. Chapter 8

Molly sat in her flat watching the lately news on her telly. It had been a boring, uneventful day at the morgue, even the bodies were boring. She left work at ten and had only just gotten home to an unsurprisingly empty flat. She was used to being alone and having no one there for her when she got home. Even Toby was out that night.

It was pathetic really when you looked at it. She was a 33 year old woman with a successful stable job, she had a beautiful flat in a great part of London and she was financially secure. So why did she find herself constantly alone? In a city of 8.174 million people, how was it possible to be this lonely?

A knock on her door caught Molly's attention and made her pulse quicken. It was half past midnight, who could be at her flat at this time of night? Slowly she got up from her couch and made her way towards the door. She stood on her tiptoes and looked out the peephole, Sherlock stood outside her door; why was Sherlock at her flat?

Molly unbolted the dead bolt, opened the door and took in the sight of him. He stood there with his shoulders hunched forward, his hair was damp from rain and stuck out in all ends. He wasn't wearing his long jacket that he always wore, instead he was just wearing black trousers and that sinfully tight purple shirt.

"Sherlock, what…what are you doing here?"

Sherlock stepped forward invading Molly's personal space, she began to back away but Sherlock grabbed her shoulders so she couldn't move.

"I needed to see you," he whispered.

"Why?" Molly asked quietly. "You knocked, you usually just pick the lock and come in. Why did you knock this time?"

Sherlock considered her question for a moment, what was he supposed to say in this moment? He thought for a moment but all of the scenarios he ran in his head would make him sound crazy and would most likely get him kicked out.

"I needed to see you," he repeated again.

"I have a phone, you could have text."

He knew Molly had said something but he didn't hear it, he was too busy staring down at her. God, she was beautiful. This was it, this was his moment. He leaned forward and before Molly could stop him he pressed his lips down onto hers. He moved his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks in between his hands. He kissed her again and again and again until his brain felt like it was melting and his insides feel like they were exploding like fireworks on New Years.

Molly could feel her pulse quicken and with every touch sparks ignited inside her. Sherlock Holmes was in her flat, Sherlock Holmes was kissing her. She dared herself to open her eyes to prove that this was indeed happening, she did and feeling satisfied with herself she shut them again and kissed Sherlock back.

His hands brushed her cheek, his hands knotted in her hair, pulling at it but it felt good in a weird way. She brought her hands to his stomach and very slowly made her way up to his chest, she grazed every strong tight muscle with her hands memorizing each one as she went. She had imagined this so many times but never in any of her fantasies did he have her pressed up against the wall, nor did he have his hands knotted in her hair. He pulled her hair gently testing the waters, she moaned into his mouth and Sherlock knew it was time to continue.

He gripped her waist and lifted her off of the ground and into the air, Molly's legs wrapped around Sherlock's waist tightly as he carried her down the hallway and into her bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and hovered over her resting in between her legs.

He moved his mouth from her lips and trailed kisses down the side of her face, down her jaw and down her neck, she moaned once more and threw her head back out of pleasure, Sherlock couldn't help the feeling of his pants tightening in that certain spot. Her scent filled his nose and filled him with memories of that long night in the lab when he confessed her importance to him and more importantly when he told her she counted. Her kisses tasted like tangerines and the promise they had made long ago on a moonless night lingered on her tongue.

With shaky hands Molly reached up and slowly one by one began to unbutton the buttons of his shirt. She took her time doing this task taking much pleasure in feeling the soft silk between her fingers, the feeling of his soft warm skin sent a tingle down her spine. When finally she had all the buttons undone she reached up and very slowly pushed the fabric off his back, bunched the shirt in her hands and threw it across the room.

Abruptly Sherlock sat up and rocked back gently on the balls of his feet. His pupils were so full that she couldn't see that beautiful ocean colour, all she could see was the black colour of his arousal. His chest rose up and down in a great speed and Molly was to guess that if she took his pulse that too would be racing.

"Wait, Molly I just need to make sure of something," he whispered. "I need to make sure you're okay with this, that you want this."

"Of course I want this," she replied, "I've always wanted this."

"Have you ever-"

"Yes, have you?"

"Yes."

"Oh-"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow in response. "You seem surprised?"

Molly bit her lip. "Well I just assumed that you were…well that you've never had…well you know what I'm saying."

Sherlock lied down on his side with his head propped up on his elbow. He brought his hands to her waist and gently stroked the soft exposed skin just above her navel. "There was a girl once in University; I thought I was in love. She was three years older than I was and was rather quite intelligent, a chemistry double major just like I was. It didn't last long, merely just a short fling in the backroom at a party. You Molly are different."

"How so?"

Sherlock rolled over and cupped Molly's cheek. "Because my dear Molly, you feel like home."

She kissed him then hard over and over again putting her heart into every kiss as if sealing it deep within him making sure that if she couldn't keep it from being broken, he sure could.

Within minutes they had shed their clothing and left it abandoned in a pile on the floor. He hovered immobile over her propped up on his elbows looking deep within her eyes, looking into them now he felt like he was looking into her soul and looking at everything she was and had ever been.

He looked at her once more for approval and when she nodded a yes he slowly and full of love and desire closed the gap between them.

* * *

"Originally I wanted to be an astronomer and study the stars. I had my whole life planned out from a very young age. My father had a bunch of old books about the stars and constellations that he used to read to me and when I was finally old enough he gave them to me and I used to read them every night. He bought me a telescope when I was fourteen, mum was mad at him for it saying that we couldn't afford it but she got over that after she realized it brought me joy.

"When my father died I was a complete wreck, he was my best friend, he was my everything. The pathologist seemed so harsh and distant, he made it seem like my father's death was a true inconvenience to him. It was then when I decided to become a pathologist, I knew that people wanted to feel comforted and I knew I could give that to them."

Sherlock kissed his pathologists cheek and pulled her closer to him. It had been hours since they had finished making love but their bodies still buzzed and hummed from the encounter. Molly sat in between Sherlock's legs with him sitting against the headboard of her bed. He had her wrapped up tightly in her sheets and gently rocked her side to side in a calming motion.

The drugs had worn off long ago but Molly had kept his buzz going with her warmth and loving ways. He was careful to hide his bruises from the needle and despite nothing hiding them from each other she never saw.

Sherlock kissed her once again, Molly's lips more than happily and hungrily responded back. He knew that he should leave soon before his withdrawal symptoms hit but something kept him glued to her. He wanted to leave, walk out that door and back to 221B but the thought of leaving her alone again cause a sharp pain in his heart. No, he had left her alone behind before, this time he intended to take her with him everywhere he went.

"I wanted to be a pirate when I was younger," Sherlock admitted.

Molly giggled. "Captain Sherlock Holmes, it has a nice ring to it!"

Sherlock gripped Molly tighter. "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can," Molly turned her head and met Sherlock's eyes with hers, "stay as long as you like."

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that but time didn't matter when they were together like that. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning when Sherlock himself had drifted off into a comfortable dreamless sleep.

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait for this chapter I got sick recently and I've been busy with work but here it is!_

_Hopefully I'll have a new one up soon so enjoy this one!_

_-Lemon_


	9. Chapter 9

In the two months that had passed Sherlock and Molly had made the perfect routine. They had seen each other almost every other night and on the nights they couldn't see each other they would spend all night texting each other, she found out years ago that Sherlock never used his phone to talk, only text. Molly worked most nights until after supper so the nights they spent together Sherlock made sure to bring take away and a bottle of red wine for them both to enjoy.

They had both worked hard to keep their private lives private and never let slip that they were seeing each other. When Mary wanted to see Molly she would always use the excuse that she had to stay late at the lab to work or that she had already made other plans. At first she had felt bad for blowing off Mary but all those bad troubling thoughts lost themselves in Sherlock's icy blue orbs.

Two months was all it took. She had fallen deep into the rabbit hole of love and felt herself falling deeper and deeper with every touch, every moan, every kiss. Her love for him gave the sun its power, it gave the stars its shine, it was brighter and stronger than any diamond out there. Her love for him pumped through her veins, his love gave her the oxygen in her lungs, her heart beat to the tune of Sherlock Holmes.

They found themselves at that particular night wrapped around each other in a tight embrace in front of Sherlock's fireplace. Sherlock plucked away absentmindedly at his violin while Molly lied quietly beside him. She had gotten off work an hour early and decided to surprise Sherlock and show up at his flat with a bottle of French wine and Chinese takeout.

When she first showed up Sherlock seemed rather taken aback and surprised to see her, he looked at her like he was the last person he expected to show up. Molly blamed herself, really she should have called or sent him a text to let him know she was coming over but she liked the idea of surprising him. There was something else off with him that night though. The circles under his eyes were darker and rounder, his face looked more sunken in, he looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days. When she asked him about it he replied that he was working on a case and dropped it at that. She didn't question him further she knew that he was still trying to adjust to his new life, especially since John wasn't here to help him.

"What are you playing?" Molly asked quietly.

"Hmm, oh nothing really, just something that just popped up in my head last night." He answered.

"You're composing again?"

"It would appear so, why do you ask?"

Molly pushed herself up off the floor and sat cross legged in front of him. She gently took the violin from his lap and placed it gently on the chair beside him. She reached towards him and cupped his cheek with her hand. "You only compose when something's troubling you. Is it the case?"

Sherlock said nothing just stared deep into Molly's eyes. There had been many times that he had wanted to confess everything to her, he wanted her to hold him and take away the drugs that were slowly killing him away, he wanted her to tell him everything was going to be alright and that nothing bad will ever happen to him again. He wanted to tell her all about those three long horrible years but he himself couldn't face his own memories so why should be burden her with the thought?

"I'm fine, just tired." Was all he could manage to say.

She opened her mouth to say more but before she could Sherlock placed his lips roughly over hers to silence her. He clung to her tightly and desperately holding onto her like she was his lifeboat. He had long ago memorized the keys of her body, he played them for her like he was playing a melody. He knew what keys to play to produce certain reactions, he knew that kissing her collarbone and that spot beside her ear would produce a moan. He knew that his touches left her body humming with electricity, he knew the effect he had on her. And he knew the effect she had on him.

He can feel the drugs begin to slowly drip from his system but he can't take any more with Molly here, instead he decided to indulge in drug that is Molly Hooper.

She begins to unbutton his shirt but his hands stopped her and his words whispered in her ear that he wants to leave them on. His body feels cold so she blames it on that but she can't help the sadness she evokes upon herself, she wants desperately to feel his bare skin against her own, she wants him to claim her or mark her as his own but deep inside her she knows this is still all a fantasy and that she'll wake up soon with nothing but a heartache as a souvenir.

* * *

That night as she sleeps soundly in his bed, Sherlock sneaks out of 221B and into the dark alleyway. In the dark one of the younger boys from his homeless network hands him a dark brown mailing envelope then disappears into the shadows as quick as he came out.

He doesn't wait till he gets back to his flat, instead he pulls out the needle from his pocket, rolls up his sleeve and inject himself with no hesitation. He allows himself a few minutes alone with just himself and the drug, the feeling of euphoria fills him up and sends his body buzzing. Oh how he's missed this feeling and it had only been twenty three hours.

He walks back slowly to 221B letting the cold winter air bite at his skin, he likes the way the air feels in his lungs and the almost burning sensation on his skin. Winter had always been the favourite for both of the Holmes boys, perhaps it had been a foreshadowing for their future cold nature and bitterness that they had grown into. It was really a childish feud they had been fighting for years but deep inside himself Sherlock knew he would never forgive Mycroft for leaving him when he was only young. He had resented his brother the second he left for Uni, he knew that Mycroft had to continue in the long line of government workers that ran in the Holmes blood but Sherlock thought his brother was different, he thought he had a heart but the years he spent without him proved him wrong.

When he returned to the flat the drugs had began to fully take effect. His vision blurred, his heart raced, sweat poured out of his pores and his lungs ached for oxygen. He stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed still fully clothed. The high wasn't as good when he was asleep but it was the best he could do with Molly still here, she didn't work till 3 tomorrow which meant she would most likely stay the morning which left him no other option than to shoot up at night.

He fell asleep at once into a dark dreamless sleep.

Molly woke up that morning at half past seven to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs. She jumped up quickly and threw on Sherlock's blue dressing gown before stepping out into the sitting room.

"Really Sherlock you should clean up this place a bit it's a state or at least let me hire you a housekeeper-"

The eldest Holmes brother stopped midsentence once Molly came into view. She stood before him wearing nothing but his brothers dressing gown, her head of hair was all knotted up in the back and could use a good brushing but she was still beautiful.

"Hello Mycroft, how are you?" Molly asked breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I'm fine Miss Hooper, thank you."

He wanted to ask what she was doing here at this hour and why she wasn't wearing any clothes when the puzzle finally clicked together. They were sleeping together, it was so obvious Mycroft mentally punched himself for not picking up on it earlier.

"I assume my baby brother is still asleep?"

"Oh um…yes he is still sleeping…he's been busy with a case hasn't slept in days, you know how he is."

Mycroft's eyebrow raised out of suspicion. "My brother doesn't have a case, Miss Hooper. DI Lestrade offered him one last week but he said he was taking a break from cases."

"But he told me the other night that he was working on one," Molly said shaking her head. "Sherlock said there was a murder and the police needed his help."

Mycroft stepped closer breaking the distance between them. "Miss Hooper I would not lie to you, you know you can trust me. Perhaps we should talk about this somewhere more private and perhaps with more…clothing."

Molly opened her mouth to reply but before she could a sharp pain hit her side causing to gasp out in pain. Mycroft seeing her discomfort quickly came to her side and helped her into Sherlock's chair.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"I'm fine I just haven't eaten in awhile really I'm fine,"

Mycroft wanted to press the issue further but at that moment Sherlock emerged from the bedroom wearing what Mycroft could only imagine were two day old clothes. Anthea's weekly report on Sherlock had told Mycroft about Sherlock's weight loss but he never thought it had been this noticeable. He looked he hadn't eaten in weeks and his bones stuck out so much he was sure they would cut.

"Why so silent, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked. "Cat got your tongue or are you still working on that biscuit from this morning?"

"Funny brother, I just stopped by to see if you were interested in taking a case but Miss Hooper here has informed me you are already on one."

"It's Molly," Molly said quietly from the corner. "Mycroft please call me Molly really-"

"Shut up, Molly he knows your name," Sherlock interrupted.

At his little outburst Mycroft's jaw snapped open. "Sherlock!"

"It's fine," Molly spoke up, "really it's fine why should he change just because we're…"

"Anyways, Mycroft as ever your presence is dull and unneeded so good day to you. Try not to start a war on your way home."

Mycroft looked at Molly one last time before taking his leave. Sherlock made a mimicking face behind his brother and slumped away into the bathroom. Really she didn't know why she bothered with the two brothers, they were clearly damaged goods but they were also quite childish at times.

Molly opened her mouth to say something but the gurgling sound her stomach was making made her stop what she was about to do and make her clutch her side. When was the last time she had eaten? She got up from the chair and walked to the fridge, opening the fridge she realized why she hadn't eaten in days, there was another head in the fridge!

"Sherlock!" Molly yelled. "Get that bloody head out of the fridge and buy some food!"

* * *

**So my last chapter got the most views out of all my other chapters I decided to thank you guys with another chapter so enjoy!**

**Hopefully I'll have the next one up soon!**

**-Lemon**


	10. Chapter 10

"Molly can we please go out tonight! We haven't gone out since before I got married, you're making me feel like an old married lady ugh this is horrible!" Mary whined. "C'mon we can go get some dinner at Sebastiens, maybe go to a club after and go dancing? C'mon Molly please!"

Molly rolled her eyes, she loved her best friend but sometimes she could be too much to handle, and this was a perfect example. "Can't you and John go out tonight? You know I'm not feeling well, I think I'm getting sick I've got a cold coming!"

"Ugh Molly you are just like those boring old housewives I live around! Really the only times they go out is when their kids have a rugby match or a football game or something!"

Molly sighed and stretched out long on the couch. Mary had come over to her flat almost two hours ago and in that time Molly sat and patiently listened as her friend ranted on about her job, her coworkers, John and well life in general. Molly usually loved hearing all about Mary's way more exciting life but she had been feeling sick the past couple of days and all she wanted was a hot bath, a good book and a nice glass of wine.

"Molls are you even listening to me!"

"What, yeah sorry just thinking about things sorry," Molly said.

"Thinking about that bloke?" Mary asked in a sing song voice.

Molly frowned and got up from her spot on the couch and walked over to the fridge. "What bloke?"

"You know! That bloke you were seeing before the wedding!"

Molly sighed opening up the package of cheese she had found in the ice drawer. "There was no bloke, really Mary I don't know where you come up with these things."

As Molly opened up the package of crisps Mary continued on with her speech about how she was convinced that Molly was seeing some tall dark handsome stranger that for some reason had to exist because Molly had that _New Relationship Glow_. Molly wanted to laugh but making nachos was taking top priority right now.

"Molly, are you making nachos?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, you want some?"

Mary shook her head out of disgust. "No I don't want nachos I want you to come out with me for a fancy gourmet meal with a side of dancing! We can go to that karaoke bar you wanted to go to last month?"

Molly put the pan into the oven and jumped up onto the counter. "Seriously Mary no I'm sick I'm not going anywhere! Now can you hand me my phone please I heard it go off a minute ago."  
"Fine I'll get your stupid mobile,"

Mary got up and grabbed Molly's phone from the coffee table and unlocked the screen. Text from Sherlock Holmes read the display banner. "Why is Sherlock texting you? I thought he doesn't talk to people, bit of a hermit he is."

Molly hopped off the counter and grabbed the phone from Mary before she could read the text. She turned her back away from her so her friend couldn't see the impossible to miss smile. **Dinner? –SH. **Was all it said, Sherlock wasn't a man or many words but he sure knew the right ones to make her smile. **Love to –MH. **She had sent back. She hadn't seen him for the past few days while he worked on the case, she had asked him over almost every night but he always responded with a no and left it at that. The old Molly would be insulted and reduced to tears but this was the new Molly, a much more stronger and happier one, she knew Sherlock was busy really she should have known better than to interrupt him. She knew how he liked to be alone in those times.

Molly put down the phone and at the smell of melted cheese took out her beautiful looking nachos. Not waiting for them to cool down Molly immediately dug in and shoved them in her mouth barely allowing herself to chew she was starved.

"You okay Molls?" Mary asked. "You never eat nachos, I didn't even know you liked them."

Molly started to reply but had to stop midway through her sentence when the taste of bile began to fill her mouth. Leaping into action she sprung into the bathroom and just barely made it to the toilet before heaving the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl.

"Jesus Molly, are you alright?"

Mary crouched beside her and rubbed small circles into her back and held her hair back from her face. Molly groaned loudly into the bowl and flushed the toilet after a minute. Pushing herself up off the tiled floor Molly stood up and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Maybe that cheese was moldy, really Molly you've got to be more careful about your health."

Molly shook her head. "Mary I don't think it was the cheese," looking down at her flat stomach Molly began to feel sick and nauseous all over again. "And I don't think I'm sick."

"Molly, what are you saying?" Mary asked quietly.

"I think I'm pregnant."

"No no no no no Molly! What are you saying? You're not pregnant!"

Mary gripped Molly's shoulders and almost too roughly spun her around to face her. Molly's eyes looked wet and glassy and her jaw quivered up and down like she was holding in tears.

"Mary," Molly's voice wavered, "what do I do?"

Mary hesitated for a moment. "When was your last period?"

"Umm…three months ago?"

"Jesus Molls you didn't think something was up two months ago!?"

"I have that insert thing! I only get my period four times a year!" Molly shot back angrily.

"Oh hey how is it? I've been thinking of getting that for awhile but I don't know-"

"Can we move on from this please?"

Mary and Molly stood in silence for another few minutes before Mary grabbed her mobile out of her pocket.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked.

"Calling John, we can get him to draw a blood and he can do one of those tests that doctors do and then we can find out for sure!"

Before Mary could dial the number Molly snatched the phone away and held it above her head. "We're not calling John!"

"Tesco?" Mary asked cocking her head to the side.

The two quickly grabbed their purses and were out the door in a flash. On the curb Mary flagged down the nearest cab and Molly allowed herself to be lead into the backseat. The ride was a blur, in all honestly the whole trip was one big huge blur. Before she knew it she and Mary were browsing the chemist aisle while Mary was handed her various packages with different colours and various patterns on them. She looked down and read the labels of each, _Pregnancy Test: Know for Sure._ Beside the labels a chubby baby was pictures with dark black hair and a toothless grin smiled back at her.

Is that what her baby would look like? Molly couldn't help but wonder what the life inside her would look like. Would it look like her with her straight auburn hair and round brown eyes or would it look nothing like her. Or would it look like-

"Sherlock,"

"What?" Mary asked.

"Sherlock," Molly repeated. "The baby, it's Sherlock's."

Mary gripped Molly's arms lightly. "You're pregnant with Sherlock's baby?"

"Um…yeah,"

"Sherlock Holmes?" Mary asked.

Molly nodded her head. "Yeah who else would it be?"

Mary shrugged. "I was kinda thinking it was that blokes baby that you were seeing behind my back, by the way you never told me his name!"

"There was no bloke! It was Sherlock, it was always Sherlock."

They didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip. In the end Molly had ended up purchasing nine pregnancy tests and she's pretty sure one ovulation test but in her defense Mary was the one shoveling them into her basket and not her. She didn't remember getting back to her flat but then again she doesn't remember much of anything.

Before she knows it Mary is shoving her into her bathroom with the shopping bag giving her a quick encouraging hug before shutting the door. Molly allows herself a minute to herself taking deep breaths in and out before slowly beginning to unwrap the boxes and lay each stick out on the edge of the bathtub, carefully laying each instruction packet beside the right stick.

Molly had always wanted kids she just never thought that this would be what it was like, she thought she would be excited about taking these tests, she thought she'd different. She imagined herself married for a few years before she even thought of having kids, the marriage part stuck out more than anything. Love, marriage then baby not love and baby! She wasn't even in a stable relationship with Sherlock! She didn't even know how to define what her and Sherlock had. Friends with benefits? Were they ever friends? She didn't like the sound of that and she was sure Sherlock wouldn't like that either.

While Molly waited the three minutes she allowed her mind to wander to Sherlock. She let the blue ocean orbs take over her thoughts, she allowed his gentle touch to ignite a spark inside her, she let her love for him wrap around her heart.

A knock on the door caught Molly's attention to made her come back to reality. She looked down at her watch. Four minutes had passed, the tests were done it was time to know the results.

With shaky hands she reached down and grabbed all the sticks into her right hand and opened the bathroom door. Mary stood in front of her with her arms crossed and her mobile in her right hand, the screen displayed a jumping timer. Molly wasn't the only one keeping track of the time.

"So?" Mary asked in a small voice. "Did you look yet?"

Molly shook her head. "No, I'm scared Mary." Molly could feel tears hit her eyes but she didn't want them to fall, not now, not when she needed to be brave and strong. "What if I am?"

"Then there will be one more Hooper for me to love."

Mary gave her friend a quick reassuring smile then gripped her hand. It was time for them to find out for sure.

Molly let out a deep shaky breath not realizing until that moment she was holding it deep within her lungs. She laid out all the sticks out on the counter, counted to ten then flipped them over one by one to show the display.

Two pink lines.

"Congrats, Molls, you're pregnant."

* * *

**There you have it the newest chapter!**

**Hopefully you guys like it!**

**I don't really have a set upload schedule so what I've decided to do is the more reviews and views I get for this chapter the faster I'll post the next one. That way you guys can tell me when to post another one so I don't feel like I'm bombarding you with chapter after chapter!**

**So if you want the next chapter review, review, review!**

**Thanks guys!**

**-Lemon**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! Here's my next chapter, hopefully you like it!**

**Unfortunately I have midterms coming up so I don't know when the next chapter will be posted. Hopefully soon but I make no promises!**

**-Lemon**

* * *

One week.

One week had passed since Sherlock had the pleasure of seeing his pathologist, Molly Hooper. If he hadn't had his homeless network keeping an eye on her, he would be worried. No, Sherlock Holmes did not worry, had he ever in his life worried? Human emotions were so wasteful and unforgiving he wished he could delete them all in the first place; it would after all give him more room in his hard drive. He knew Molly was safe and that's all that mattered.

One week.

He had sent numerous texts and even called her mobile many times but Molly never answered, instead it went almost straight to her voicemail to be, he could only imagined, ignored forever. One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty eight hours.

If this were any other week he wouldn't have cared as much as he did, he knew she must be preoccupied with other things, work, Mary…a lover perhaps? No he knew that title was reserved for him and him alone. No this week he needed his pathologist, he needed his Molly.

This was the week he was giving up the drugs. He had hated the way the heroin had clouded his brain and made his memory fuzzy, he hated the way it took control of him. If Moriarty couldn't succeed in taking control of him then why should the drugs.

It had been four in the morning when he flushed his supply. He didn't even hesitate, this time he just unwrapped the bottles from their cloth cover and calmly drained them into the toilet before throwing the empty glass out the window and onto the curb. The last time he had tried to do this wasn't as easy as this time, he had already known what to expect so he didn't feel the need to repeat the past there was no time for hesitation and regret this time. This time was for real and this time sobriety was going to last.

He just forgot how hard it was going to be to achieve it. He had forgotten (or perhaps deleted) all of the withdrawal signs and symptoms. The breathing troubles, the insomnia, the constant vomiting, heavy sweating, shakes…everything. He thought that this time would be easier but he had forgotten how last time he had Mycroft, Lestrade and rehab…this time he had nothing. Not even Molly.

He knew that if he called Molly and told her the truth she would run straight to him and help him through all this but he didn't want her to know. He didn't want her to feel the pain that he only imagined she would. He had run the scenarios in his mind and knew that nothing good could come out of it so instead he shut his mouth and remained silent.

Sherlock got up from his spot in the corner slowly and made his way to the ensuite bathroom. He turned the bathtub taps on full blast and let the cold water run over his equally cold hands. He counted the seconds it took to fill the tub in Russian and once he reached three hundred he counted backwards in Italian but only reached one hundred and thirty hour before the bile raced back into his mouth causing him to violently dry heave into the toilet bowl.

Thirty four. This was the thirty fourth time this had happened this week, Sherlock Holmes never lost count. As soon as the tub was full Sherlock turned the taps stopping the water flow and half rolled half hopped into the tub despite still being fully clothed. The water was freezing at first and for a couple of minutes Sherlock couldn't feel anything but after awhile the cold water heated up and Sherlock could feel the withdrawal slowly slip away. He liked feeling this way, he liked feeling numb.

He stayed in the bath until he could feel his heart beat slow almost dangerously low and could no longer control his bodily shakes. He waited until the bath water had disappeared down the drain before he shed his wet clothes and wrapped himself up tightly in a large blue towel. He would have stayed like that forever if it had not been for the ringing sound of his mobile from the other room.

Slowly he made his way into his bedroom and reached for his mobile which rested on his dresser. A text from Molly.

_Come over for dinner? –MH_

With shaky fingers Sherlock text back a reply only a heart beat later.

_Love to. –SH_

It takes him twenty minutes to finally pull himself together and get dressed, his hands are still shaking and his pupils are still very dilated but he could easily pass that off from lack of sleep of lack of eating. Both of which he had been suffering from for the past few weeks. Thinking about it now Sherlock tried to remember the last time he had had something to eat or when he had slept for more than three hours, no memory came to mind.

He half-ran half-walked out the door and out onto the curb where he flagged a taxi, gave the cabbie Molly's address and settled into the back seat. The whole way there he thought about Molly. Molly Hooper, the woman who had successfully killed him and the woman who brought him back to life. He owed her a world of gratitude and was confident that this was the best way to repay her.

When Sherlock had first gotten to know Molly she was quiet and mousy, only very rarely speaking to him when she gathered the courage to say something. He himself knew the effect he had had with woman, particularly for Molly. He knew that she was infatuated with him and often fantasized about him, while staying at her flat after The Fall he had overheard her talking in her sleep about what he could only imagine was a rather graphic dream about him and something else with a TARDIS, whatever that was.

Sherlock was a man who didn't like to remain in someone's debt; Molly Hooper was no exception. Making her feel loved was the only way he knew to repay her back. He knew at the beginning that tricking Molly into sleeping with him was harsh but he couldn't stop himself, especially with the drugs running through his system. He had only meant to do it a few times but just like the heroin he was shooting up Molly Hooper began to wrap around his head, and dare he say his heart?

He did not love Molly but he would be lying if he said he felt nothing for the girl at all. She was after all his life raft but she was the final reason he gave up the drugs. Molly had been satisfied in her end of the bargain and the sooner Sherlock got out of this _arrangement _the sooner he could get on with his life. Caring is not an advantage, he told himself often throughout the day, sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side. And Sherlock Holmes was never on the losing side.

* * *

Molly had been pacing back and forth for the better part of the hour, it had gotten so bad she was sure there would be burn marks in the hardwood tomorrow. She held the positive pregnancy test tightly in her hands gripping it tightly almost scared if she let go it would disappear. She half expected herself to wake up in the morning only to find that everything had been a dream, it wouldn't be the first time.

She had already been to the doctor and gotten the blood test to prove once and for all that she was pregnant but she had wanted to show Sherlock the pink stick. Sherlock liked physical proof so she figured she'd have better luck showing him this than a piece of paper with a bunch of words and results. The only thing that really mattered was the two of them and the small walnut sized baby growing inside her.

Peering down at her flat stomach Molly carefully rubbed small circles over her baby.

"It's okay, daddy will be here soon."

Daddy. She liked the ring of that. Mommy, she likes the ring of that better.

The knocking on the door came ten minutes later shortly after Molly placed the takeaway order from their typical Chinese place down a few blocks away. She opens the door and feels her stomach do somersaults and her heart flutter like a butterfly when she looked at him. His curls are slightly damp from the falling slow outside and in that moment Molly wants nothing more than to wrap her fingers in his strands and hold him close. Later, she tells herself, there will be time for all of that later.

Sherlock steps into the warm flat without an invitation and takes his usual spot on Molly's sofa, much to his dismay Toby jumps into his lap and begins rubbing up against his stomach begging to be pet.

Very slowly Molly shut the door and carefully strides across the room and sits next to the consulting detective.

"Sh..Sherlock," she begins to say, "I need to tell you something and-"

"Before you begin I myself must tell you something too." Sherlock says quickly before Molly can say anything else. He needs to get the upper hand in the situation just like how he practiced it.

Molly, clearly caught by surprise says nothing and nods her head. Sherlock looks down at her hands intertwined with one another and pretends not to see her ghostly white knuckles clutching the hem of her shirt. Taking a deep breath Sherlock continues his story.

"Molly while I have…enjoyed these last few weeks I feel like now would be an appropriate time to get back on with our lives and continue going about our day like we had before. I feel like we had our fun and now it's time to get back on with our lives, you with your pathology and me with my consulting work. While I know this may come as a surprise to you seeing as for the past few weeks we've been inseparable I must tell you now that I find myself married to my work and-"

"Wait, Sherlock what are you saying?"

Sherlock looked down at the white and brown tabby stirring in his lap and took a deep breath. "I'm saying that we've both had our fun now and now it's time to go back to reality and continue on with our lives."

For a moment the world stopped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; Sherlock was breaking up with her?

"Are…are you breaking up with me?" she asked quietly.

"Breaking up would mean that we were once together," Sherlock said, his voice flat and cold. "We, Molly were never together. It's time to move with our lives."

"Separately?"

Sherlock bobs his head up and down and clasps his hands together excitedly. "Yes! You understand! I thought you would be-"

"I don't understand," Molly whispers quietly, "I thought we had something. I thought you loved me."

Sherlock almost jumped back at the word that escaped Molly's lips. _Love,_ he flinched at the word like he was a sinner being drenched with holy water. He almost laughed at Molly's assumption but the look on her face stopped him.

The once rosy cheeks were now drained of all colour and appeared almost grayish against the light. Her eyes, once full of promise and hope were void and empty like looking at the night sky with no stars. Regret fills his body and suddenly he wishes he could take it all back, everything he had just said then he wishes he could take it back. He wishes that for once in his life he could shut his mouth and never say anything ever again.

If you could hear a heart break, Molly was sure that she could hear the sound of hers echoing throughout all of London. His words felt like a thousand tiny daggers were slowly being stabbed into Molly's heart and twisting around on her insides making her body catch on fire. His words burned their way into her soul and slowly fill her body up with poison. Molly placed her hands over her stomach unconsciously as if to protect their baby from his mean words, but it was too late; the harm was already done and irreversible. They were already in her system running through every ounce of her love for Sherlock and slowly destroying what she had once held so sacred.

"I'm pregnant," she whispers without meeting his eye, she finds herself at this minute to look anywhere but him, it hurts too much.

He doesn't say anything, instead Sherlock allows the words that have just spilled out of Molly's mouth to sink in. He waits to feel a reaction, he waits to feel anything; anger, depression, remorse? But instead he feels nothing, he feels numb.

"Say something, please." Molly begs.

Straightening his back Sherlock practically pushes Toby out of his lap and tightens his wool coat tighter around the waist suddenly feeling cold.

"I suppose congratulations are in order,"

"I'm pregnant, Sherlock." She repeated again, only this time looking into his eyes. She slowly fished out the pregnancy test from her pocket, hesitating only for a second before handing it over to him. "It's yours, not that you care but I have your baby inside me."

She waits for him to say something, anything. But instead of words she is treated to silence. She wants to tell him more, wants to tell him her plan for their future but words fail her at this moment. Everything at this moment fails her.

"I can do this alone," Molly says, "if I have to, I will raise this baby alone. I don't want to, I want to do this with you but I understand if-"

She can't finish the sentence. She feels the tears rose up in her throat and is scared if she continues she'll either choke or drown.

"Just let me know, okay?" she continues. "I want you here with me, with us."

He leaves before the takeaway gets there, he leaves before she can say anything else, he leaves before she can cry anymore, he leaves. He just leaves.

The takeaway comes shortly after he leaves, she pays the man and takes it in her flat only to throw it away in the bin suddenly losing her appetite. Her legs shake and it's only a minute before she collapses onto the ground; tears drown her eyes and sobs break out in her throat. She clutches the broken pieces of the pregnancy test in her hands tightly, she doesn't even remember Sherlock handing it back to her.

She wants to run after him but she's never stopped him before from walking out on her, why should she start now?


	12. Chapter 12

Molly sat in her favourite chair with her feet tucked under her and her hands together in her lap. It had been four weeks since she had seen or heard from Sherlock and in all honesty she didn't expect to hear from him at all, he had made his intentions pretty clear from their last meeting.

Molly's hands unintentionally ran down her front and gently rubbed small circles into her flat stomach. She was roughly twelve weeks along in the pregnancy and she couldn't be more relieved, with all the stress she had been dealing with for the last few weeks she was scared she was going to suffer a miscarriage but after her latest doctor's appointment he informed her that the risk of losing the baby lowers after the twelfth or thirteenth week.

There were so many new things that were happening to her body, Molly wasn't sure if she could keep up with it. For two weeks straight she couldn't even move her head without feeling nauseous, she could only stand up for small amounts of time before she felt too tired to move and recently she started to get heartburn after eating and her gums started bleeding after she brushed her teeth. All of these John and her doctor both confirmed were completely normal and expected to happen.

She had gone out with Mary a couple of days ago to the store to purchase some baby necessities. They had gone out for lunch at this fancy bistro downtown and afterwards they had gone over to a newly opened Montrose baby boutique and picked up some essentials. She picked up three baby bottles, one white one, one yellow one and one with twinkling stars over it, a plain white dummy like the one she had as a baby, a few muslins and some cotton soft blankets. Molly wanted to go absolutely crazy and buy every cute item in the store even a six hundred pound wicker pram that would be perfect for the nursery but Mary had to basically pry her fingers off of it and told her to wait. That was the hard part; waiting.

Molly had been asked at least seven times by her doctor is she was sure she didn't want to know the sex and every time she had nodded her head and told her she wanted to be surprised. At times like these she wished she knew whether to buy the cute denim overalls for a boy or an adorable pink sundress for a girl. But no, her mother had waited when she carried her so Molly would be patient and wait till the Big Day until she found out.

A soft knock on the door caught Molly's attention and slowly she made her way across the room to answer the door. She didn't have to check the peephole to know who was waiting on the other side, she already knew it was Mycroft before she got up. She unbolted the door and pulled it open, surprise surprise, it was Mycroft.

The eldest Holmes stood before her in his usual three piece pinstripe suit with his umbrella in hand, why did he insist on carrying that everywhere? It hadn't rained in weeks and there wasn't any in the near forecast.

"'Ello, Mycroft," Molly greeted making sure to put on a smile. "Won't you come in?"

Mycroft nodded his head and returned the smile, though not as easy as the pathologist. "Yes, thank you Molly."

He followed her into the flat and took a seat in the chair in the corner Molly offered. Without having to ask Molly began to fill up the kettle for tea and took out the blue china tea cups she reserved specifically for such a visit.

"It's been a week," Molly said breaking the silence. "I almost thought for a second you had decided to leave me alone."

Mycroft smirked ignoring the sarcastic tone Molly projected. "I'm checking up on you to make sure your well being is looked after. If you wish me to leave you alone all you have to do is ask."

Molly shook her head. "No it's fine, I like the company I don't get out very often it's nice to have someone over every now and then, even if it is you."

Molly carried over the tea tray to the ottoman and placed it gently down and began to pluck two sugar cubes into the cup before stopping herself but it was too late, the sugar had melted and was now one with the tea.

"Problem, my dear?" Mycroft asked noticing the change in atmosphere.

Molly shook her head quickly but didn't meet his eye. "You don't take sugar,"

"It's quite alright," Mycroft insisted taking the cup in his hand and the silver spoon in the other, "tea is tea."

"You don't take sugar, Sherlock does."

Ah, there it was. His name, Mycroft felt a shiver of ice run down his back at the mention on his youngest brother. He had been informed by Dr. Watson what had happened and the second he found out he cancelled his meetings for the rest of the afternoon and rushed to 221B Baker Street. He wasn't surprised to find his brother playing with his chemistry set at the kitchen table, his violin wasn't far behind lying on the couch thrown their rather clumsily. He opened his mouth to say something but before he could he noticed the broken strings on the instrument, his violin was the only thing Sherlock ever truly worshipped and cared for and to see it in that condition broke his heart. Something was wrong.

"What the hell was all that about?" Mycroft demanded.

"I gather John told you, or was it Molly she was always rather fond of you? Did she come crying to you after I left? You took your time, it's all those pastries you've been eating it's slowing you down." Sherlock responded without looking up from his microscope.

Mycroft clenched his fists together, he could feel his anger fuel through his body but needed to remain calm. "So this is your idea or dealing with things? Play chemist at home while you have a child out there-"

"I don't have anything!" Sherlock suddenly losing his temper pushed the microscope roughly away from him as if it was nothing and stood to face his brother. "I didn't ask for this! Why should I be punished for something I didn't plan for or want?"

"And you think Molly Hooper wanted this!?" Mycroft shouts back almost instantly. "She loved you from the very second she saw you and this is how you repay her? She's giving you the greatest gift she's giving you a child and you just walk out on her? She doesn't deserve that, she certainly doesn't deserve you."

Mycroft stared down his brother for a few moments before finally backing down. He picked up his briefcase from the floor and made his way to the door to show himself out. He turned the knob and was halfway out the door when he turned on his heels and looked upon his broken brother once more.

"What's dead should stay dead."

He hasn't seen his brother since.

Mycroft snapped back to reality and placed the cup down gently against the saucer. Reaching forward he gently placed his hand over Molly's and smiled gently. "It's for the best, Miss Hooper."

Molly turned her hand over in his and squeezed. "I know, I know, but still-"

"Don't think about the past, think about the present! Think about your baby, the life you will bring into the world!

With her free hand Molly once again stroked her belly. She imagined her pea size baby floating around in her, the baby had eyes now but no mouth but she could picture the baby smiling, his beautiful smile and laughter filling the empty flat, he would make her so happy. Him? Him. It sounded right, that gut feeling that she felt every now and then told her a boy. She couldn't help the smile that spread contagiously onto her lips.

"What is it?" Mycroft asked, confused at her change of state.

"I think it's a boy," she whispered, "I think I'm having a son."

"How can you tell?"

"I guess I just know? Intuition maybe? I'm not sure but I think it's a boy."

Mycroft stayed another hour the left back for his office. While in the back of his car he dialed Anthea's mobile instead of sending a text or email, something he rarely did and gave her her newest assignment.

Later that night when Molly was just about to go to bed she heard a knock on the door. Opening the door she was greeted to a wooden wicker pram, the same one she was looking at the other day. Running to the window she got there just in time to see a black sedan speed away into the night. Returning to the pram she noticed a note on ivory cardstock with a simple line.

_For my nephew. _

_ -M._

* * *

**Hey guys sorry for the long delay! Exams were brutal but I'm back!**

**Also Montrose is a store I made up because I'm not very familiar with baby stores!**

**Enjoy and review and hopefully I'll have something up next week!**

**-Lemon**


End file.
